Update For The 4th Of November: I Will State While The Beginning Was A Bit More Heavy, It Didn't Turn

So, I got an idea in my head a while ago involving Alastor not being a sinner. Or, at least not a sinner in the same sense every other sinner is. And the idea was NO ONE knew, not even Alastor, till someone related to Charlie came along and asked "huh... Is he actual -something else-?"

And, I kind of like the idea that there are sinners that can never be redeemed, not because of never being able to repent for the horrendous acts they committed in life, but because I feel there are some sinners who didn't do horrible stuff but can't be redeemed because they are MENT to be residents of hell like the hell-born.

After all acultism, soul contracts, and demonic rituals are a thing in the Hell_of_a_Boss/Hazbin_Hotel and who is to say there aren't people forever bound to hell one way or another because of this.

So, i wrote the idea into a fic to try and set my ground rules! And below is the fic.

If you have the time, maybe give it a read and tell me what you think?

Philza goings on! Go watch stream then come back if you want no spoilers of lore!

Ok, so Phil returned from his Brazil trip and after talking about his trip for a while he got pulled into lore initially by getting pulled into a pure black room and forced to play an even odd game with three dice where even is lose and odd was win. Phil got a 5, a 6, a 6, and a 4 (the 5 was his initial dice role that he accidently picked up) if we go by the first 3 roles, (the 5, 6, 6,) then Phil won the game. As his reward he got a ticket with the number 18 and his name. After which he was pulled into more lore by Fit who revealed Ramon (?) had given him coordinates that lead to a very glitchy photo of some of the eggs items in a swamp/near lilly pads.

After which, they checked the original weird thing sight with Pac to find a waystone to an airship that was probably some Etoiles lore since it later led back to the man's house. (pac glitched out due to some soon after) and then Fit showed Phil the prison the federation built.

Then Phil and Fit went to check Phil's message area. Finding nothing. Only for Fred (WA02) to appear with a guard (also Talullah admin void) and do an interview with Phil and then later, after a bit of proding of why by Phil, Phil allowed the federation workers to have a tour of his bace that was filled with so much sadness because missing eggs. From this exchange though we learned some major things (this is in no particular order) 1. The federation workers do not know Cucurucho. The bear instead seems to be only a member of the Census Beauro. And the Census Beauro appears to be separate from the federation. 2. We got conformation from Fred himself that the federation or at least Fred's level of the federation (which is extremely high up if the document Tubo told Phil about before Phil left is correct, which yes, I know I didn't talk about that stream at all really, but to me it was mostly Tubbo stuff) does not know what has happened to the eggs. 3. The code monsters are considered residents of the island. 4. Fred is trying to find out what happened to WB011 (aka Ron, AKA thanks BAD for stealing a federation worker!) and this will probably be whatever is going to go on with the prison.

After that, Fred and the guard went to interview Fit (with Phil spying from up in the trees because they decided to do it on the wall) and look at Fit's base. Afterward, the two checked some spots to see if there was no message for Phil. After which, Phil went back to telling the Brazil stories.

No clue what is happening, all I know is, the plot thickens.

Yes! Go read this fic! It's awesome!

.:~Kitty Collar Error~:.

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And after a few weeks, the “Our Tangled Web” fanart is back.  This time from Chapter 61.  Drew Error in his hoodie because he found his old clothes and it looks as though he might be wearing them for a while.

Also

Because they make for a great medium for cat ears. :D

EDIT: WHOOPS!  Forgot his glitches.  All fixed now. :’D

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“Our Tangled Web” Fanfic ~~ By: @raithwin and @avatarkayla

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Error © LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen

... Now I want to make one.

Pokeball Terrariums made by PalletCraftsbyXev

Well, this is interesting.

The Cats Favorite Toy p.2 Final

I can tell so much about you by what you've left unsaid...

Ink leaned back in his old rocking chair, listening to the old, beaten wood creak with the stretch of new pressure. He always used it whenever he couldn't sleep, when insomnia hit him hard, stapling his eyes open, making his body toss and turn, but tonight was different. No, tonight wasn't a night where he drew something and still had the energy for new pieces, but he had to go meet up with the Star Sanses in the morning, when he had just watched a fight in another au and was still riled up, tonight was worse.

Tonight was worry

There was a tightness in the painters chest that refused to go away. It made his hands shake, trembling in place, twitching every now and again from being so cramped. It made his stomach feel tight and knotted, the bitter taste of acid rising in his throat now and again, though he forced it back down. Sure, he was used to puking up Ink, but not real food. What food would even come up? He hasn't had the motivation to eat, it took a lot out of him to even roll out of bed this morning, but he knew that Error needed to be taken care of. Its not like skeletons needed to eat, even though it did strengthen their stanima, so he was just fine without it, and if that meant losing all his energy, so be it.

Ink looked across the room to the couch, Errors unconscious form bundled up in blankets and wires, pumping medicine into his soul that Sci had recommended. The glitchs break down made his core weak and cracked, so Ink had to keep a close eye on his chest. Not to mention the physical damage, a sprained ankle and chips among his skeleton from the rock fall. Being in the snow, in soaking wet clothes for hours on end, also gave Error a nasty case of frostbite. The tips of his bones, his toes and fingers, bits of rib and neck, they were all stained a bright pink color, swollen and sore. Ink had always found the others bruises interesting, how they needed to be a bright color to contrast over the dark bones. Is that why he left so many after battles? Maybe. Did that mean the guilt on his chest ever lightened? Absolutely not.

... Maybe he shouldn't have been so rough in fights. Error had already retreated down at Snowdin, but Ink was determined on having a bit more fun. Now he realized that this wasn't fun for Error, it wasn't joy he felt, it was fear. Fear of being hunted like some sort of wild animal, fear of being presented with all his failures for everyone to see, to laugh at and poke fun at for their own entertainment.

The protector takes a sip of his white paint, bouncing his knee anxiously, pumping his foot to and from the cold tiled floor. It was dulling his emotions, which he usually didn't like, but right now, he needed it. The anxiety and guilt was driving Ink insane, he felt both physically and mentally sick with the entire situation. The ticks from a clock on the wall was the only thing to keep himself grounded, each one making him flinch from the lack of background noise. Usually, he didn't even notice it, making a radio or the voices of the creators to drown it out, but now, it was like a gun being shot right next to his head, just barely missing, but still serving as a warning. Why did he even have a clock? With all the timelines and different timezones, this was a useless pice of junk. Still, it looked nice, and it made him feel like this little multiverse world had its own sense of individuality, so he kept it up. Did it even run on batteries? Or did it just hang over Ink, watching him with every click of a hand, prying into his thoughts with every tick of the minute, waiting for the artist to finally crack, to unfold just as Error did all those weeks ago.

Yeah... Weeks....

Glitchy had gone into a coma from all the cold to his body, sending him into shock. Or, at least that's what Sci said. Ink didn't really know what that meant, but it definitely wasn't good, the lack of knowledge only adding bricks to his already endless wall of anxiety.

A crash in the room almost made Ink scream in fear, though it only came out as a soft wheeze, instead gripping the arms of his rocker to try and stable himself once again. Turning his head from his hands folded on his lap, he was surprised to see Errors body... Rolled off the couch. There was a grumble from the pile as it shifted around, obviously annoyed by its prison of blankets, trying to break free, but it was kinda hard when your limbs were all numb and cramped. His counterpart rushed over to help, nearly flying out of his chair in the moment of adrenaline, pulling at the blanket until it came loose, looking down at the other

"Hey Ru... You're awake..."

Inks voice was small, something uncharacteristic for the usually annoying guardian, but the look in Errors eyes told him that things weren't all well again. The red tainted sockets looked like they were sunk into his skull, making gray bags ring around his eyes. Even though it was hard to see with the black bones, Ink could regonize it from the almost gray pupils, the usually warm color pattern drained into a ghost of once they once were, A ghost of Error. A ghost of his determined attitude, almost smug as he bickered with anyone and everyone, his pride refusing to submit into another's ideas. A ghost from his usually wide rested smile, or that jagged frown when he got upset over something small, cursing and stomping his foot like a cat who was pet at the wrong time. A ghost of the usual bright navy strings dripping down his cheeks. They weren't even glowing now, starting to mix into his skull, almost like they were invisible to his character. Ink forced himself to gulp down another bit of white paint, shuttering at the lack of taste, unlike his other vials that bursted with flavor. How long has this been piling up on Error for? The skeleton looked half dead, staring up at Ink with glossy eyelights, almost like his entire personality was broken.

The artist pulled Error back up to the couch, laying the blanket on his lap instead of bundling him up again, going to the kitchen to start up on some hot chocolate. Error always liked the food, anything chocolate really, it was like a drug to him at this point. Maybe it would cheer him up, with a bit of whipped cream and carmel draped over the top? Yeah. That sounded nice. Ink decided to make himself a mug as well, his stomach tightening from his lack of food all week.

He walked back to the couch after about 10 minutes, sighing in relief at the sight. Error had his knitting needles in his hands, strings wrapped in his fingers, making a pattern as he pulled and looped the thread. His body still looked tired, but at least he could move his fingers. At least he had the motivation to do something he loved again.

The cup of coco was set on the living room table, which was piled up with papers and art supplies, but the painter moved all that to the side, careful not to knock anything over. He was surprised that Error didn't rip up his project or destroy it as he usually did, but he could tell now wasn't the time to bright up work stuff.

Error didn't touch the coco. Not that it was stubborn and didn't want Inks help, mostly because he was too caught up in relaxing himself in his strings of fabric, letting the clock tick away. No words were exchanged, only the small background noise as Ink clicked the TV on to listen to, grabbing his notebook as well, starting to doodle things in it. It was a comfortable silence. No one moved to get away, no one bickered or screamed, the two skeletons just needed eachother right now to let the other know everything was okay, everything was normal again. In all due time, it would be, including fights and battles, the war still ranging on. But for now, it was too late to care about those things. The ticking was all that they needed to feel at peace again, relaxing in eachothers presence, letting the night soothe their souls as they enjoyed eachothers company once again

100 posts!

... When and how?

This feels like something I want to read, but I don't have a archive account and I don't know if I am allowed to have an account and just lurk.

I do write, but it is nothing as amazing as what is on archive of our own.

Here’s a VERY unfinished comic from the amazing fic Monkey King's Guide to Physical Contact by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off . I lost steam on it a little while back so it never got finished, but thanks so much to the incredible @lavaflowe for all the constructive criticism and lettin me dump ideas on ya! This Monkey Has Problems

ok, this is a stupid picture I came up with a long time ago in response to a random idea I had got at the time.

I have like part of a story written done for it, but the main gist of it is Ink finds Error having his equivalent of a seizure and after finding out that Error basically leaves it untreated he kind of kidnaps Error in an attempt to prevent Error from hurting himself with his “incompetence”.

I may put up what I have of the idea at some point, but as of now that is far from my mind.

Ok, big news has come up involving what has happened with the Eggs in today's lore! Those who haven't watched anything Phil, Bad, Cellbit, Tubbo, Forever or Pac have done today, go watch and then come back, I refuse to spoil the insanity that went down!

Ok, so today Phil, Bad, and Celbit we're working to try and free Forever and Pac from the drugs the federation had given them. Eventually managing to do so after trapping Forever and Pac in cage traps in the secret organization working to free the residents from the island and destroy the federation.

While Forever was coming down from the effects of the drugs before being given the antidote he revealed something while hallucinating Cellbit as Cucarucho. He revealed that the eggs hadn't been taken by the federation this time, but had instead insticualy run away from something much more dangerous that has invaded the island. Something that wasn't the Federation or the Codes.

This is very disturbing, because it means the Eggs know instinctively that there was nothing their parents could do to protect them from whatever was coming. And with how abruptly they left it means whatever was coming that would be coming for the eggs has to be coming SOON. If I had to guess, I would say by the end of this week or early next week.

We don't know. But I can tell you, this is very interesting and leads to more questions of "what is going on?"

Also, for those who saw Etoiles fighting the code and winning, one of the few things the Code had on them was a book that Etoiles translated as saying one word, "protect." But protect from what? Protect self? Protect island? Protect against the attack that is coming? Was the message only for the code or was it meant for Etoiles?

This! I can test to this!